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The sky is black and the streets are wet with rain by the time the bell above Jimin’s flower shop finally jingles. Jimin feels the knot in his chest loosen as he looks up, a wide smile breaking across his face at the sight of Jungkook. It’s funny — Jimin’s not even sure how he knows his name.
Jimin’s memory is strange, see. He can clearly recall the meaning of every bloom in his shop, knows how to pair them perfectly for any occasion, but has no idea why he’s been waiting all day for the man in the doorway, or why the sight of him makes his heart feel so full. Or why behind his sharp-toothed smile, the man’s eyes look so incredibly sad.
“You’re here,” Jimin breathes, dropping the white rose he’s holding to come around the counter. He wants to hug Jungkook, but stops himself, unsure if they’re close enough for that. Jungkook’s eyes seem to grow even sadder at his hesitance, gaze falling to the floor.
“I’m here every day, my love,” he sighs. Jimin wants nothing more than to replace the pitiful look in Jungkook’s eyes with joy. He feels certain he’s seen him look happy before. It must have been magnificent.
“I only meant I’m glad to see you,” he says. Jungkook looks up then, sighs, and opens his arms. Jimin beams, falling into them.
“How was your day, darling?” Jungkook asks. Jimin feels his cheeks warm. He must like when Jungkook calls him that.
“Long. I missed you,” Jimin says, surprised by the truth of it. “I wish…” he starts.
“What?” Jungkook pulls back to look at him, keeping strong arms around him.
“I wish you could be here with me always. That you would never leave,” Jimin whispers. Sorrow blooms painful and sudden on Jungkook’s face, and he releases him abruptly, stalking away to stare out the window. Jimin holds his breath, cursing himself for upsetting him. He misses his warmth already.
“How could I ever truly leave?” Jungkook finally says. The words sound bitter. Jimin bites his lip. He doesn’t understand what he means, but he can’t waste his limited time with Jungkook, so he clears his throat.
“Come, help me finish my work?”
Jungkook looks at him. He looks so tired. “Yes, my love.”
The evening passes slowly, the two of them creating centerpieces for baptisms and brunches, sharing soft touches and softer smiles. And though Jimin can’t recall ever having spent a night this exact way, it feels so strangely familiar. Perhaps Jungkook really is here every day like he said.
Hours pass. Thunder rumbles outside, rain lashes at the window, but Jimin is warm. His back is tucked against Jungkook’s chest now, they’ve taken to working like this — Jungkook reaching both arms around Jimin to tuck stems into the vases, dropping the occasional kiss onto Jimin’s neck as he does. It makes Jimin's pulse pick up every time.
“Are you happy here, darling?” Jungkook asks softly, pressing another kiss to his neck. Jimin squirms, trying to ignore the heat it sends pulsing through him. He hums in thought, dropping his head back against Jungkook's chest.
“Yes. I love flowers, and I love you, and so I’m happy.”
Jungkook hums, pleased, wrapping a hand around Jimin’s waist affectionately, stroking him with his thumb. Jimin feels a little stunned that he’s only known this man for a few hours and has already confessed to loving him. But no, that can’t be right. He must have known him for longer. He must see him every day. Right?
“Are you happy, Jungkook?” He asks. Jungkook lets out a long sigh before answering.
“Seeing you makes me feel… like I can keep going,” Jungkook says. “And perhaps that’s all I can ask for.”
Jimin doesn’t like the sound of that. Seeing Jungkook makes him feel so… full. Complete. Satisfied like nothing else in his simple, rain-dreary world can make him. Is that not how Jungkook feels with him? Jungkook presses lips to his neck once more, and Jimin lets the worrisome thoughts dissolve, focusing only on the heat against his neck, the sturdiness against his back.
“I wish the cherry blossoms were in bloom,” Jimin murmurs while working on a birthday bouquet. “The girl who ordered this says she loves baby pink. How gorgeous would a branch in the middle of this one look?” Jungkook kisses his cheek.
“Impossibly gorgeous. Like you.”
Jimin blushes. After a moment Jungkook hums as though a sudden thought has occurred to him.
“Do you remember that morning in Tokyo, the one just after you turned? You woke up and ran to the window of the inn, pointing at the trees and smiling so big. I was terrified that you’d hate it, being like me, but you said the cherry blossoms had never looked so vibrant. 'It's like they're lit from within,' you said. I’d never seen you so excited. So content. God, I was relieved.”
Jungkook rests his chin on Jimin's shoulder when he finishes the story, chuckling a bit, sounding contented and warm. Jimin feels stiff, a little sad. He doesn’t remember that at all, and he feels the moment Jungkook must realize, feels him stiffen too.
“You don’t, do you?”
“I’m sorry,” Jimin whispers. He can’t hold Jungkook’s gaze, the disappointment in it too painful. It’s not fair.
Jimin finishes the bouquet, secretly a little glad that there are no cherry blossoms in it.
They’re working on the last arrangement, one for a wedding. Jungkook’s arm snakes around him again, and Jimin gasps.
“You - you’ve got a tattoo of this same flower on your arm!” Jimin says with a delighted smile. Jungkook stills. “Why do you have a spirea?” Jimin asks, trailing fingers over the inked petals.
“You should know why,” Jungkook says after a heavy pause. His voice is low, urgent, almost angry. Jimin feels the hairs on his neck stand up.
“But… I don’t. I don’t know why you have that,” he says, feeling helpless. Jungkook’s hand on his waist feels nearly too tight.
“It’s your birth flower, Jimin.”
Jimin frowns, torn between confusion and endearment.
“That's sweet that you have a tattoo for me, but — I was born in October? How do you know that? I didn’t even know —”
“I just do!” Jungkook explodes. “I know it because I know you, and you should know it too!”
The shop is silent in the tense aftermath of Jungkook's shouting. Even the storm seems to have gone quiet. Jimin’s lip quivers. He thinks he’ll probably cry, and he can’t tell if it’s something that’s safe to do in front of Jungkook. If only he could just remember.
Anger wells in him, sudden and strong.
“It’s not fair!” He wails. “You’re angry with me, but I’m the one who — who lives his whole life in the dark! I can’t recall anything that matters, all I do is watch the rain, and wait for you, and arrange stupid flowers every day!”
He sweeps a hand across the counter, knocking a pile of white roses to the floor and hissing as a thorn nicks him.
Jungkook's nostrils flare, eyes locking into the pearl of blood blooming on Jimin's finger.
“I thought you said you were happy. You always wanted a flower shop.” He murmurs, eyes never leaving Jimin's finger.
Jimin begins to cry in earnest, and Jungkook’s gaze snaps to his face.
“I am - I am, but —”
“Shh, my darling,” Jungkook pulls him close, and Jimin buries his face in Jungkook’s neck. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, it’s not your fault.”
"But you're angry with me," Jimin hiccups, sobs subsiding as Jungkook rubs soothing circles on his back.
"No, my beautiful boy. Not with you. Never with you," Jungkook soothes, tightening his hold on Jimin. Jimin feels the sudden bout of sadness recede as quickly as it came, calmed by Jungkook's reassurance, his arms around him, sturdy and comforting. He sniffs.
“It’s okay," he mumbles against Jungkook's chest. "I’m probably just hungry, that’s all. Have you eaten? I didn’t even ask!”
Jimin pulls back to look at Jungkook. His eyes are dark, laced with red. Jimin shivers, the warmth from before pooling again.
“I have not eaten. Will you feed me, my love?” Jungkook asks.
The hunger in Jungkook's eyes is predatory. Should Jimin feel afraid? He doesn’t. He just feels warm, and tingly, and he wants Jungkook to — to take him, to use him.
To finally be satisfied with him. Only with him, the way he is with Jungkook.
“Please,” he says.
Jungkook's hand threads into his hair, and then his head is being tilted to the side, neck bared as Jungkook sinks his fangs into him.
Jimin’s vision fades to black with a blissful moan on his lips.
Jimin comes to blearily, cold metal against his back and fluorescent lights shining above him. He’s lying on some sort of table. A woman shuffles toward him.
“Hello handsome,” she says gently, bringing a red-soaked rag up to his neck and dabbing at it. He blinks. It’s terribly bright.
He hears a door open and close, and then there’s another woman above him. She’s younger than the first. He wonders if he should be nervous. He doesn’t know where he is, after all, but something about the older woman’s presence feels calming. He realizes that knows, somehow, that she'll take care of him. He lets himself relax as she wipes at his skin.
“What happened to him?” The younger woman asks.
“Ah, I forgot you’re new. The usual. Boss lost it again.”
“This… happens often?”
“Often enough. The developers still can’t get his memory functioning correctly. I heard boss screaming at them about it a few minutes ago.”
The young woman brings a gentle hand to Jimin's face, sweeps his bangs back.
“Poor thing,” she says.
Is she talking about him? Is Jimin the poor thing?
“It’s not like it’s his fault his coding is so complicated,” she continues. He doesn’t understand what that means, but her voice is nice.
“He’s so pretty ,” she murmurs after a moment, still petting his hair.
“Hey, take it easy if you want to keep your job,” the older woman says with a snort. The hand leaves his hair. “But yes, he’s certainly beautiful…”
She looks behind her, lowers her voice to a whisper.
“Apparently, he’s the spitting image of the boss’s dead mate. Poor man couldn’t let him go, so he devoted his life and wealth to creating…all this. The virtual world, the AI tech, this guy.” The woman gestures to Jimin, her eyes somewhere between fond and pitying. Jimin frowns.
“Wow,” the younger woman says, eyes round as saucers. “They didn’t tell me that in the interview.”
The older woman chuckles, resuming cleaning Jimin's skin, applying some sort of patch to his neck.
“So he created all this, and now he goes to see him every night, only to…?”
“Lose his shit and maul him?” The older woman offers. “Not every night, but… hey, it’s job security for you and me, kid.”
“But… why?” The young woman looks pale, shuddering when she looks down at Jimin. He wonders what sort of a state he must be in. He’s not sure he wants to know.
“My theory,” the older woman begins, voice low, “is that he’s angry that no matter how hard he tries, how smart the guys he finds to program this thing, he can’t recreate the real Jimin.”
The real Jimin? Jimin ponders this, confused. What does that mean — the real Jimin?
“It’s heartbreaking, really,” the woman continues. “I feel so bad for him — the boss, I mean.”
The younger woman scoffs. “You feel bad for him ? The immortal millionaire who murders his robot lover every night?”
“ Shhh! ” The older woman admonishes, eyes wide and darting between Jimin and the young woman. “You can’t say things like that! Besides, you don’t know him, new girl. I do. Imagine having to live forever, alone. Knowing that your mate is gone forever, and spending every night with an imitation instead? Almost him — but crucially different? Don’t feel bad for Jimin. We patch him up anyways — don’t we, dear?” she says with a fond pat to Jimin’s cheek. “Feel bad for Jeon Jungkook.”
Jimin’s heart pounds uncomfortably, the conversation setting him on edge with its implications and hidden meanings and words he doesn’t understand. But he perks up, like a gulp of fresh air after nearly drowning, at the last thing the woman says. “Jungkook? You-you know Jungkook?”
Both women look at him, startled by his frantic tone. They try to soothe him with warm hands on his shoulders, but he squirms away from them.
“Please, can I — I want to see him!” Jimin doesn’t know what they’ve been talking about, can barely conjure Jungkook’s face, but he knows he wants to see him. Needs to.
The older woman meets his gaze, the look in her eyes so full of pity it makes Jimin’s stomach clench in fear. But when she speaks, her tone is soft, reassuring.
“Of course, dear. Don’t worry. You’ll see him tomorrow.”
Jimin relaxes instantly, his heart rate slowly returning to normal. He nods at her.
Tomorrow.
Tomorrow.
He can wait that long. Perhaps he can make a special bouquet, just for Jungkook. He wonders what kind of flower he likes…he thinks maybe…spirea? He’s not sure why, but yes. Spirea sounds right.
He’ll do that. He’ll make a bouquet, and he’ll wait for Jungkook.
He’ll see him tomorrow.